


Sonorous

by nightvalesecretpopo



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, Insomnia, M/M, mentions of genocide and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightvalesecretpopo/pseuds/nightvalesecretpopo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos has been suffering from insomnia, and has used Cecil's soporific voice as a remedy for it. But when he is forced to stop the show for a little while, he comes up with a solution: why not call him and just talk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonorous

“Stay tuned next for three hours of an arrhythmic heartbeat interspersed with the cries of cicadas and cymbal crashes. Well, as always, good night, Night Vale... good--” Cecil stopped abruptly and muffled, piercing shrieks could be heard from somewhere in front of the microphone. “Ah, it looks like station management has a message for me. I would just cut off here, but since they are apparently very eager,” he rose his voice as the cacophonous screams suddenly crescendo-ed, “I'll just go ahead with it now!” A quiet, dull _thunk_ could be heard as he put the microphone on his desk, followed by quiet footsteps as he presumably made his way to the door. When he plunked back into his chair, he tore the envelope open and the ruffling of paper rang through the pregnant quiet left by the monster's silence. 

“I suppose I should read this aloud while I'm at it...” Cecil mumbled. “Hmm... ah, I see... alright- oh, dear,” he said, anxiousness tainting his usually calm voice. “According to station management, I have to take a mandatory leave from work for quite some time, effective immediately. They have not given me an actual explanation as to why, but they have said that it is most certainly not because for the next few weeks or so, the Council wants all citizens to stay indoors and completely ignore anything going on outside, and it's also _definitely_ not because they do not want anyone talking about- or reporting on, in my case- or even _remembering_ the events that will transpire during this period of time. In fact, I should let you know that it has been declared temporarily illegal to remember anything, and only sub-conscious actions such as breathing are permitted. Now, I'm not quite sure how anyone is supposed to even remember to not remember things, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, right, Listeners? Well, until next time... good night, Night Vale (not that you'll remember it). Good night.” After a few moments of silence, the broadcast ended, and the erratic thumping of the aforementioned heart replaced it directly after. 

Carlos lifted his upper body, stiff from exhaustion, and turned off the portable radio before sighing deeply and plopping himself down again. He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and put his palms over his eyes. 

How was he supposed to be able to sleep now? 

The scientist had been using Cecil's voice as a remedy, of sorts, for his insomnia. He could not quite recall when it had reared its ugly head, but he could only assume that it was somewhere around the time that he arrived in the rather unorthodox little town of Night Vale. There seemed to be some new Eldritch peril every day, from the imposing, flashing cloud that dropped various marsupials all over the place that was somehow elected as School Board president (not to mention that it was able to bear children) to the fact that _time itself_ was slowing down around them. Needless to say, he had noticed quite a bit of hair fallout in recent days. 

But with the radio host (his voice, at least) at his bedside, all those otherworldly troubles seemed to dissipate: though the news itself was quite worrying and almost never made any logical sense to the scientist who was so used to everything abiding by the basic laws of physics, Carlos just didn't listen to what Cecil was actually saying, and just allowed the words to merge into a soothing wave to ride on into sleep. It had been working quite swimmingly for a few weeks now: admittedly, Cecil (who was so generous as to even get the show moved to later in the evening, which took quite a bit of convincing and bloodshed for station management to ratify- the scientist refused to ask how he had managed to convince it, as he figured the answer would be rather unsettling) was the only reason he still had a job, as he was unable to do so much as stay awake and focused for more than a few minutes. He would have to make it up to him some day.

Unfortunately, due to recent developments, he had yet another favour to add onto the pile. The only solution he could think of was for him to call Cecil every night and talk to him until he fell asleep. Since this idea would end up interfering with the radio host’s own torpor, Carlos thought it was best to call around the same time as the show normally went on. He hoped Cecil would be OK with the idea: after all, perhaps he appreciated the break from work, considering how tiring and dangerous a job it could be. But perhaps he would put aside those feelings for his “perfect” Carlos? The scientist did not appreciate the idea of taking advantage of Cecil’s emotions, but… well, something had to be done.  
To confirm whether or not it was a possibility, he pressed his palms into the bed to push himself up. He rested his back against the headboard, picked up his home-phone, which rested on the nightstand, and whispered “Cecil Baldwin” into the black ball on the end of the cord. It clicked and chirped for a while, almost angrily, and he realized why: he needed to give it hair. Carlos gingerly pulled out one of the shorter ones near his temples and held it up to the device. It slipped away quickly from between his fingers and a low drone resonated from it until his boyfriend picked up, answering with a simple “hello?”

“Hey, Cecil,” he said groggily. “I--”

“Oh, hi, Carlos!” he practically squealed, his voice an octave or so higher than his radio personality’s. Cecil didn’t have caller ID on his cell-phone, so hearing his lover’s voice was quite a pleasant surprise for him. “What do you need, dear?”

The scientist generally appreciated his eagerness and affection (even if he sometimes went a bit overboard with it), but he was far too tired to put up with it tonight, so he replied quickly so as to not let him interrupt again. “Like I was saying, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need you to do something for me.”

“Why, you’re not bothering me at all, my Carlos,” he explained cheerfully, “what do you need?” The scientist didn’t even have a chance to inhale when he said, “Oh, is this about your insomnia? I’m so sorry about that, dear- I tried to negotiate with station management and get them to reconsider, but they just wouldn’t listen! Then again, I suppose the city council wouldn't be too happy if they caught wind of it… I wouldn't want to interfere with our government’s wishes, after all!” He said loudly away from the receiver, presumably so that the secret police would hear him.

Carlos admired his consideration: he knew how frightening management could be from Cecil’s stories, all told in trembling whispers and followed by murmurs in some foreign language, shrieks and odd movements and convulsions of his fingers. “Thank you for that, Cecil, but I think this idea will be fine and _totally legal_ ,” he emphasized the way his boyfriend did. “I was wondering if you we could talk on the phone until I fall asleep, the way it was with the radio.”

The radio host paused for a moment before responding cheekily, “Are you sure that you wouldn’t prefer me sleeping over—”

“No,” he interjected sternly. He left the air dead for a moment and realized that he might have upset Cecil, so he laughed. “I’m just kidding. But really, do you think you could do that for me?”

He let out a little _oh!_ and a light, uncertain chuckle before saying yes. Carlos smiled to himself and informed him that he was okay for tonight and would call him the following evening. They exchanged good-byes and the scientist slid back under the covers, curled up in them and fell into slumber not long after, his dream mainly containing the creatures he’d discovered in recent exploratory escapades.

\-------

The day was somewhat uneventful: the day's criteria consisted mainly of exploring the wastelands and the remains of the underground city, the population of which had been eradicated (but most certainly not by the secret police to eliminate the idea that any threat to the town existed- city? What city?). Not much was discovered, but at least they got to give the deceased of the subterranean army its peace- after examining the houses, full of tiny people frozen in place going about their daily lives as if in a picture, they decided to erect a small monument of it near the wastelands and leave many small pebbles to substitute for graves. He did feel an immense amount of guilt wash over him as he limbered about, various measuring devices in hand, seeing the innocents that had to die because what they did to him made them come off as a huge threat. Carlos promised himself to not let his scientific curiosity overcome him anymore. 

After a long day at work, having changed, had a light dinner, and brushed his teeth, he plopped down on his unmade bed. His ears felt empty and his body tense and heavier than lead as he lay awake, staring at the ceiling with some envy- it was far more at peace than he was. He exhaled deeply before calling Cecil again. 

“Cecil speaking,” he drawled with a yawn. There was a faint cracking as the radio host presumably cracked his back. 

“Oh, sorry, were you asleep?” Carlos asked, feeling slightly embarrassed. He didn't think Cecil would have forgotten about their arrangement, but did he call too late?

“Oh, no, it's fine!” he replied. “I've just been keeping awake here waiting for your call.” 

The scientist's eyebrows raised. Had he really just been sitting there this whole time? He frantically apologized, saying that work kept him later than he expected, but his boyfriend just brushed it off reassuringly. There was an awkward, pregnant pause before he asked Cecil, “So, how was your day?”  
His voice switched nigh instantaneously, going into the slightly higher, more upbeat voice he used when off the air (he would have preferred the other, given that it was much deeper and far more relaxing, but he didn't complain; if anything, he would just ask later). It appeared that nothing in particular had really happened that day, so he just talked about mundane happenings like what he had for breakfast and what he watched on television. He did mention something odd about a tabby cat that wandered in his front yard giving off an immense amount of heat and an insurmountable desire to shop at the Ralph's (“but I controlled myself and just bought some water and a box of blood-stones and hair,” he explained”), leaving ostensibly miles-deep holes where its paws had been, but he stopped before he could go into more detail- he ended up delving into descriptions of numerous cat videos he'd seen online, describing their antics with amazement and glee. Carlos closed his eyes and just listened, breathing not yet having slowed down, and Cecil said remorsefully, “I'm sorry I can't talk about anything more interesting, Carlos, but I'm not allowed to talk about anything that could be considered 'newsworthy.'” 

“It's alright, Cecil,” he said. “After all, this is so I can sleep, right? It doesn't matter if it's 'boring'; besides, I like talking about the simple things like this. It's nice to hear about things that aren't big and dangerous in this town for a change. And I like hearing that you're OK, dear: I care about you a lot, after all,” he finished, honesty emblazoned proudly on his voice. 

Cecil chuckled happily and replied, “Thanks, love.” There was an awkward, pregnant pause before the radio host asked, “And what science-y things did you do today?”

He smiled at Cecil's excited tone before recounting the day's happenstances. The radio host would interject with the occasional hum and “I see” and “that's interesting!” to let him know that he was paying attention; other than that, he did not interrupt. When he arrived to the part of the day involving witnessing the tragic aftereffects of the town's genocide, he noted that Cecil wasn't saying anything. When he reached the conclusion, he groaned and said, “I just feel so bad about it.”

“Don't be,” he stated. He paused before continuing, “It really isn't your fault, Carlos. The council had been planning to do this ever since Teddy Williams discovered it. And besides, if they hadn't have done it, who knows what else could have happened? Other people might not have been as lucky as you were, dear Carlos.” Cecil exhaled deeply. “'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'. It's not a fun rule, but it is one by which we must abide.” 

The scientist nodded. “Thank you for that, Cecil. I appreciate it.” Though it was unfortunate, it was true. After all, they did project that the citizens would not last long given the fact that their crops of invisible corn were not sustaining the population well. It was better than starving to death slowly, right? He smiled given this new knowledge, and finally felt completely weightless and unburdened- though his talk with Cecil had made him substantially sleepy, he had still felt quite tense and uneasy. He shut his eyes again, feeling himself drift away, his breathing gradually slowing down. However, something roused him from his daze before he could fully slumber.

“Are you still awake, Carlos?” Cecil whispered. He was about to say no, but was curious to see what confession his boyfriend might make to his unconscious self, so he just remained silent, snoring quietly. 

After a moment's hesitation and quite a few stammered beginnings to his sentence, he murmured, “I love you.” 

The scientist smiled. Wanting to give him closure, he said “I know” and immediately hung up. It was obvious that that was the case, and that he reciprocated those feelings with all his heart, but he was still surprised to hear those words finally said aloud. He would say it in return next time they saw each other; he just wanted to have a little fun leaving him in suspense.

And he could have sworn that, as he drifted away, he heard Cecil squealing and giggling like a schoolgirl off in the distance, the stars in the sky seeming to glow contentedly as if happy for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt credit (shown below) to venezianostuck on Tumblr!:
> 
> "a fluff prompt where carlos has insomnia but ever since he started listening to cecils show he could sleep so when cecil has to stop the show for a while carlos begs him to talk to him on the phone til he sleeps and they just talk about all sorts of things (and when cecil thinks he's asleep he says i love you in the phone and carlos says i know anD JUST HANGS UP"
> 
> (I'm way too lazy to re-write all that right now, aha)
> 
> I'm a bit happier with the characterization in this one compared to my last one... especially with Cecil. 
> 
> Aah, I just love this pairing to bits, expect a lot more from me! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!~


End file.
